Homeschooling? Seriously?

I’m not exactly signing on the with majority of my urban peers when I say I’m going to be homeschooling my children. Some people write it off as crazy; some people let me know how crazy they think it is. Trying to explain the whole story would take too much time. And, considering that my oldest child is not quite 4 years-old, I should not be considered an expert. But, I am happy to provide a few quick reasons why I am convinced that a home-based education is superior to the vast majority of modern schooling situations.

* It should be said that these statements represent ideology, not strict facts. Meaning, I believe they are true enough of the time, in enough situations, that they can be depended on to guide my decisions about my children’s education. I know that there are exceptions to every rule. I don’t need to be reminded of that.

1. Parents should be the primary influence in their children’s lives during the most influential time of their lives.

In our modern society, it is perfectly normal–no, usually expected–that parents birth their children, spend about two or three years with them, then ship them off to be cared for by someone else. But, is it really developmentally appropriate for a 3, 4, or 8 year-old for that matter, to spend more than half of his waking hours with practical strangers? Are they really better educated (or potty-trained) by professionals than they are are by their parents? Are they really better socialized in a room of 20 peers and one or two adults than they are in a multi-generational family unit or community? Should they really be learning communication skills, social grace, and philosophy from a bunch of other kids who probably watch too much tv and may very well have the worst parents on the planet? These are some of the questions that lead working moms to quit their jobs so they can stay home with their young children. And these are the questions that make career-minded women reconsider their own career paths and commit themselves, instead, to full-time motherhood and home education.

2. Modern schooling is a waste of time.

Ask the average homeschooling family how much time each day is spent on focused, formal education and you’ll get a variety of answers. But, none of them will even come close to the 6-8 hrs most children spend between school and homework each day. In a school situation where one teacher is responsible for keeping tabs on dozens of children, it should be expected that nothing will be efficient. “Busy work” alone should be the proof. If not that, then the fact that young children–kindergarten, first grade, etc.–are actually given homework from their teachers. But, when teachers are expected to divide themselves between so many children, what other choice do they have to keep track of everyone’s development? For especially gifted children, modern school gets more and more boring as they progress past their peers and spend all their time waiting to move on. For struggling children, there is simply not enough time or resources to spend on one child and, so, that struggling child will waste hours every day in confusion when they could be learning individually for better progress.

3. Children should learn in the context of the real–not hypothetical–world.

In the mind of many people, homeschooling families are stuck at home and isolated from society. But, the world of homeshooling is much more diverse than you’d expect. Many homeschooled children are not only exposed to the world around them on a regular basis, but the world around them is integrated into their education. Especially in an urban context, the world becomes the classroom. Museums, ethnic cultural hubs, music venues, interesting neighbors, a local economy, outdoor areas, etc. Instead of sitting in a desk all day, with stale air and limited natural light, homeschooling can offer more time outside and more time learning from the real world. Children can learn from first sources–professionals in any given field, for example. And they can gain insight in a multi-cultural and multi-generational context instead of in a simple teacher-multiple student situation that depends on textbooks as a resource for knowledge.

Like I said, it’s not really possible to go into much detail here about the logistics of curriculum or schedules–the “how to” of homeschooling. But, this at least outlines some basic reasoning for why homeschooling makes sense to me.

As a sidenote–the most frequent anti-homeschooling response I receive from skeptical adults is this: But, aren’t you worried about socialization? The answer to this is simple: no, I’m not worried. Why? Because I don’t think it’s healthy for my children to be socialized by their peers. Sure, my children may never be privy to the cultural references of their friends–certain cartoons, movies, or video games. And they may not have the same sense of humor as their peers or always wear the same clothes. And they may not always have the same idea of fun. But, this says nothing about their competence, their character, or the quality of their education. It is more important to me that my children are wise and secure than it is that they speak the language of popular culture. Wisdom and security do not come from peer socialization–they come from focused, intentional mentoring from responsible adults during which they learn the skills needed to engage properly with their peers. I am not afraid of popular culture and my children will spend plenty of time with other children. (I mean, I don’t want my children to be isolated freaks.) But, my children will be exposed to the rest of the world on my terms while they are young. Then, as they mature, they will be more competent to make their own decisions. And I will know their competency because I watched it develop, firsthand, as I spent hours upon hours educating them myself.

And another point: I am not naive. I know that homeschooling my children is going to be very difficult and that there will be times when I doubt my own ability and even the decision to try. I never said it was easy; I said it was best. Even though it will stretch me and, likely, make me crazy sometimes, I am convinced that it is a superior way to educate–especially in childhood and pre-adolescence–and is worth the time and effort. I still have a lot to learn and still have a lot of logistics to iron-out. But don’t just write me off as some idealist dimwit because sending your kid to be educated by someone else makes more sense to you.

So Long, Facebook

A few weeks ago, I decided to withdraw from interaction on Facebook.

I did not delete my profile entirely, or completely disengage, but I decided to withdraw from anything deeper than base-level “social” interaction–cute photos of my kids, questions about popular culture, etc.  The decision was prompted by a long-distance friend hastily “un-friending” me after a brief exchange. The “conversation” was about negligent (in my opinion) parents who seem oblivious to their children’s lack of social skills–specifically, children who bully younger kids. After a few comments were exchanged back and forth between me, her, and a few of my other “friends,” she wrote me a message saying she was deleting me. She said she didn’t like the way my Facebook persona made her feel about me and thought it best to save whatever was left of her opinion of me. To her credit, I really, really like this friend and I think she was probably correct, in a way. And she did try to make it clear that she still likes me and thought the picture Facebook was painting of me was wrong. But, what happened with this friend solidified what I’d been thinking for a few months–I need to say “goodbye” to Facebook.

See, this is not the first time I’ve been “un-friended” for the way I expressed myself online.

A while back, and old acquaintance from high school deleted me after I posted a blog where I challenged American ideas of gender inequality, when compared with the severity of abuses committed against women worldwide.

A few months ago, another acquaintance (a friend of a friend, basically), deleted me after an exchange between me and few of my friends in which I joked about how my kids were going to be homeschooled. Other friends chimed-in, some of them homeschooled themselves and others very anti-homseschooling, and the conversation steered toward joking about how all kids end up as “freaks,” regardless of where they live or how they’re educated. She was offended by something that was said, commented harshly, then deleted me. I tried to contact this person to make amends, let her know she probably misinterpreted something that was said, and apologize for offending her, but she had blocked messages from me.

I’m sure these aren’t the only three people who have deleted me. And, in a way, it’s not a big deal. But, to me, it is a big deal. And that’s why I can’t do it anymore.

Why?

1. Social media is inherently disingenuous. We can all look good online. All we need is a few shiny photos, some clever quips about our day, a quote or two to say what we cannot, and we are suddenly desirable to the public. My guess is that most people are not nearly as impressive or interesting in real life as they are online–me included.

2. Facebook is not an intellectual medium. No matter what the topic, it’s impossible to have a truly intellectual (and beneficial) conversation on Facebook. The medium is simply wrong for it. Everything moves too quickly, people post too hastily, and many people chime into conversations that they have no business being a part of. Nearly every Facebook “conversation” I’ve been a part of has been derailed by someone who has no idea what is actually going on. These interactions are frustrating–emotionally and intellectually.

3. Internet relationships are not “real.” Yes, it is fun to connect with people online, to see their cute kids, their nice house, and to know what books they are reading. But, Facebook “friends” are not friends. Online relationships are relationships of convenience and comfort. We log on when we want, read what we want, engage when it’s desirable, and turn off those we’d rather not listen to. We have no responsibility to our online friends, and no commitment to respect or mutual benefit. It’s all the fun with none of the work. And this is exemplified by the fact that we can simply “delete” those who they don’t want to bother with anymore. Heck, I’m guilty of it, too.

Which brings me to the reason I finally had to draw the line:

4. Facebook makes me sad. A few weeks ago, when that friend sent me the message to warn me that I was being deleted, it crushed me. And that “friend of a friend” who deleted me a few months ago? I can barely be in the same room as her now. Why? Because I like them. And I want to be their friends–their actual friends. But, something I believe or something I say or the way I say it makes them so intolerant of me that they would rather turn me off–delete me–than engage in a constructive way to understand me. What it says to me is, basically, “I don’t mind looking at pictures of your kids, but I don’t want to know what you actually think about anything important.”

And this is the point:

Facebook is a joke. It’s disingenuous, anti-intellectual, and fake. But I already understood that. I made a bunch of “friends” and tried to use Facebook to socialize in a way that’s most natural and most important to me–to engage with people I like, about ideas. Other people might want to talk about books or movies or sports. I don’t care about those things. I care about ideas. And, so, I talk about ideas. But, when you talk about ideas, some people get really uncomfortable.

I understood the limitations of Facebook. And I understood that the people I engaged with online were important and valuable, even if they were different from me. This is why, on any given day, my Facebook feed covers everything from politics to parenting, religion to atheism, urbanism to professional sports. In the past, I have deleted people because I don’t actually know them or because we never interact, but I have never deleted someone because they liked the wrong football team or Presidential candidate–no matter what they said or how they said it.

I would like to think that anyone who knows me in real life is not surprised that I have strong opinions about things, or that I make friends with people who have strong opinions about things. And I would like to think that most people understand that strong opinions are only a part of the story and that a quip or quotation from a person cannot give you a comprehensive understanding of how they really feel about something.

In the world of Facebook “friends,” you can have strong opinions about the guy who cut you off in traffic, the referee in the football game, or the amount of/lack of snow on the ground but not about things that actually matter like faith or the goverment or family life.

So, I’m withdrawing from ideological interaction on Facebook.

For a Thinker-Introvert like me (I’m an INTJ–look it up), this is a painful decision. It means that I cannot connect with people the way I appreciate most–by hearing what they think about things that are important. And it means that I cannot express myself in a way that is most honest.

Instead, I’ll give you a “like” every once and a while and leave it at that. Oh, and I might ask for a movie recommendation or show you a picture of my new shoes or something along those lines. Apart from that, I’ll be MIA for a while.

If you want to know what I actually think about something, you’ll simply have to ask–in private–or engage with me on my blog. I won’t be commenting on Facebook.

Wait. What Happened to Summer?

You may have noticed we’ve been a little MIA this summer on the blog, but we’ve been plenty busy!

What have we been up to?

Like the rest of the neighborhood, we’ve been enjoying the new Washington Park. Between the fabulous playground, the water features, and the great public events, we’ve spent a lot of time exploring our new backyard.

I’ve been taking the kids hiking around town, both on our own and with some other local families. I just strap baby E on and we take to the trails! It’s amazing how many natural spaces there are in and around the city, so we’ve been working on familiarizing ourselves with the variety of options.

At the end of June, we took a week-long vacation in SW Michigan, where my family has spent summers since I was a kid. My oldest brother lives in the area now, so my kids were able to spend quality time with their cousins. And we took a sidetrip to Chicago, where the rest of my family lives, at the end of the vacation.

We’ve spent a lot of time at my mother in-law’s house in Northern Kentucky, where my husband grew up, rainy days at the Museum Center, and the cooler mornings and the Cincinnati Zoo. We took the kids to a Florence Freedom baseball game and spent plenty of time at the public library. (I think my son has now seen every book they have about firetrucks, firemen, and fire safety.)

At work, we did a ton of beautification projects leading up to the World Choir Games in July. It as amazing to see such a transformation in our city and fun to have so many people visiting for the event.

The perfect capstone to the summer was my beautiful baby girls’ first birthday party. (You can see it featured on Apartment Therapy here!)

Summer is great, but I don’t like the heat and I’m looking forward to fall, when we pull out our sweaters. Next season I will (hopefully) have the energy to work on a few projects around the house before winter hits.

Time goes quickly, doesn’t it?

 

 

 
Enjoy these last few days of summer!
 

My Boy’s a Star!

A month or so ago, the kind folks at Lauren Edward (a husband/wife film production company currently residing in our neighborhood) spent a few hours filming my son for the opening video for this week’s CEOs for Cities conference, hosted in Cincinnati. Not only does the conference look awesome, but the video really makes our city look like magic, doesn’t it? (And my son looks pretty awesome, too…)

This week, our city also hosted a GOOD Ideas for Cities event. I RSVP’ed for the event, but did not end up attending. I opted, instead, for letting my son play with the kids on the street while my husband and I chatted with our neighbors.

It’s a great time to be in Cincinnati, isn’t it?

Did anyone attend either of these events?
Tell me what happened!
Any good ideas going around?

They Did Everything Right

Last week, news broke in New York City that an 8 year-old boy had been abducted, then killed and dismembered, after getting lost only blocks away from the place he was to meet his parents that afternoon. His error: he asked the wrong person for directions. That man took advantage of the situation and it ended tragically.

I’d rather not recount all of the details. You can read them for yourself.

As a parent raising children in an urban area, I am already well-aware of the perceived dangers of city life. I know that many of my peers, with children of the same age, think I’m nuts for planting our family here. And I will admit that I sometimes question this decision, as well, counting the cost of all the extra work my husband I and I have to do to keep our family safe and healthy in the city.

But the more time I spend here (we’ve lived in Over-the-Rhine for over three years now and I worked here for the three years before then), the more I am convinced that although there are certain dangers inherent to urban life, many of the dangers inherent to childhood transcend location. No matter where you plant your family, you run the risk of encountering danger. The likelihood of my children being abducted, breaking an arm, drowning in a neighbor’s pool, or getting hit by a car does not significantly decrease the further we are from the city. In fact, depending on where you live, some dangers will increase while others decrease.

On the issue of child abductions, some basic statistics:

  • Family members account for the majority of these reported cases (82 percent)
  • Non-family abductions account for 12,000 of these reported cases (18 percent)
  • Of non-family abductions, 37 percent are by a stranger

Link: http://kidsfightingchance.com/stats.php

In more tangible terms, for every 100 children abducted, 82 are taken by a family member. 18 are taken by a non-family member. And, of those 18, only 6-7 of them are taken by a stranger. Call me crazy, but this says to me that, if your child is ever the victim of abduction, there is 93% chance they are abducted by someone you already know. And, the people you know will be the people you know no matter where you live.

And this is just one example.

As an aside, consider this: as soon as summer hits, the news is littered with tragic stories of children drowning in a neighbor’s pool. I don’t know about you, but I can’t think of a single property within two miles of my home that has a backyard pool. And the two public pools within those two miles are surrounded by high security fences and manned by lifeguards when open for business. So, this childhood danger is actually greatly reduced by living in the city.

The most tragic thing about the boy killed in Brooklyn was not that he was abducted, or that he was killed, or that it happened only blocks away from his intended meeting place. The most tragic thing for me, as a parent, is knowing that his parents did everything right and it happened anyway.

The family lived in an insular Orthodox Jewish community, a community where you’d assume residents were safe and adults were trustworthy. The boy was a month shy of 9 years old and had been begging his parents to allow him to walk home from summer camp alone. This was the first time they’d allowed it and they even walked the route with him, to insure he knew exactly where to go. Somehow, he got lost anyway. And when he stopped to ask for directions, the man he asked happened to be the one person within who knows how many miles who would take advantage of the situation.

I think about my hometown, in the SW suburbs of Chicago. And I think about the twelve or so blocks between my childhood home and my middle school. I think about the millions of times I must have walked that mile when I was eleven years old. And I think about how “safe” it seemed, even though it involved crossing multiple lanes of traffic in a pedestrian un-friendly area.

And then I think about my friend Karen’s home, in Blue Island, IL, which was a far cry from my suburban neighborhood only seven miles away. And I think about riding our bikes around her neighborhood when we were probably no older than ten years old. I think about the first drug deal I ever witnessed. And I think about the stories she told. And I think about the first time I drove through Blue Island as an adult and thought: I can’t believe her parents let us wander around this neighborhood alone!

But now I think I understand.

I think about my neighborhood. I think about the ten blocks between my home and the public library and I think: My son already knows this route and he’s not even three years old. Of course, by the time he’s ten years old, I would assume he’s competent to take this walk alone, even if I wouldn’t yet allow it at that point.

The truth is, a good parent knows their child well enough to know when they are ready to “face the world alone.” And the best they can do is trust that they’ve given their child every tool necessary to take care of themselves on that walk down the block, then the walk around the corner, then eventually the walk down to the library. And when something goes wrong, if something goes wrong, chances are that it was nothing the parents could have foreseen and that they did everything right.

This is why it’s tragic when something terrible happens to a child. Regardless of what normal, natural, everyday thing they were doing when the tragedy happened, there is only so much we can do to protect them. And it doesn’t matter where they live. At a certain point, we need to allow them the freedom to take steps out the door alone.

I fear for my son’s life at least a dozen times a day. And my daughter, who is still about three weeks away from being born, is already stressing me out. But I know that, as they grow, the best thing I can do is provide the tools they’ll need to navigate this city without me. And the tools they’ll need here are different than the tools they’d need if we lived in the suburbs, but they are no more or less important. And my neighborhood is no more or less “safe.” It’s just different. The dangers are different. The people are different. The streets and houses and stores are different. And my children will be different because of it. (Heck, that’s part of the reason we’re here.)

The sentiment spoken at the boy’s funeral is perfect for the situation:

“He got lost, he got lost,” he said… “There’s nothing to say, he got lost. God wanted it.”

As a person of faith myself, I can understand what he means. For others, it’s a difficult thing to take in. But the sentiment is something we can all appreciate because it’s true: when something like this happens, there is often a simple explanation for how it happened. In this case, “he got lost.” I’ve been lost before. And you probably have, too. And it happens in the city and in the suburbs and on the hiking trail and in a foreign city. And sometimes you stop to ask the wrong person for directions and you end up more lost than you were before. Or sometimes it ends in tragedy.

Often times, there’s simply nothing you should have done differently.

I hope that little boy’s parents know that.